


sorry, I think I've fallen...for you

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [18]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, coffee-shop au...but not..., kind of, newt has...a crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 01:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17889023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: When Newt invented a boyfriend, he didn't expect his father to find a man of the exact same name working at the new coffee-place downtown.





	sorry, I think I've fallen...for you

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon prompt: "If you're still taking prompts, what about "I swear when I made up my fake relationship, I did not know that someone worked at the coffee shop with the same name or that my family/friends would go to check you out""

“So, Newt,” his dad says, “I met Hermann the other day at the Shatterdome.” Newt freezes, mug halfway to his mouth.

“O––oh?” he squeaks, “you did?” Hermann is…Hermann is a man that Newt made up, in a moment of weakness; that is to say, Jacob was pestering him about his relationship status––or lack thereof––and, in an attempt to change the subject, Newt may or may not have told him that he’s dating Hermann from the new coffee-place downtown.

“Yeah, he was a bit weird about it, but he seems nice,” Jacob bubbles, slurping the multi-coloured cream on his own drink. “You should invite him over some time!”

“Yeah,” Newt says, faintly, “yeah, I…I’ll be sure to do that.” The previous sweetness of the the cocoa has soured on his tongue.  _Shit_ , what’s he supposed to do?

His first order of business is to actually  _talk_ to this Hermann. So, the next day, he goes downtown to the new coffee place––the Shatterdome, apparently––and asks one of the waiters for Hermann.

“Hermann?” she asks, “yeah, give me a minute, I’ll grab him.” She disappears behind the counter for a moment before returning with a lanky brunet.

“Er,” Newt says, sticking out a hand. “Hermann? I’m Newt.” Hermann regards his hand for a moment, and Newt finally drops it, letting out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, okay, um. I came in to apologize for my father? I may have accidentally lead him to believe that we’re dating…”

“You  _what_ , man?” the other man behind the counter asks, pausing in his adjustment of his bowtie.

“Tendo, be quiet,” Hermann hisses. “Do go on, Mr….”

“Geiszler. Newt Geiszler,” he fills in. “Also, thank you. For, um, not destroying my father’s illusion that his son has happy, fulfilling relationships.” Newt grins at him.

Hermann shrugs. “I had nothing better to tell him,” he replies. “Now, would you like to order something, or…?”

Newt starts, flushing. “Ah, n––no, no coffee for me today, I just wanted to say thanks.” Hermann nods, turns to leave, and Newt blurts out, “But, um, if there’s any pastry you could recommend?”

Hermann stares at him for a moment, raises a brow. “Try the cheesecake,” he says, disappearing into the kitchen. Newt orders the chocolate cheesecake, the rich filling melting on his tongue within seconds.

The next week, when he has a moment of free-time between classes, he goes back. There are a few people inside, but it’s mostly empty. Hermann’s behind the counter, and Newt skips up, offers a dazzling grin. “So, what do you recommend?”

Hermann looks like he’s about to get a headache, but, nevertheless, replies. “We have a new tropical fruit tea blend that goes well with the scones.” Newt lets out a hum.

“Alright, I’ll take a tall chai latte and a croissant,” he says. Hermann looks like he wants to slap him.

The next time he comes in, Hermann recommends the lemon meringue and a cup of earl grey. Newt pretends to think it over, and, after a minute, orders a triple-shot espresso and a rainbow sprinkle-covered cupcake. If looks could kill, Newt would be ancient history.

* * *

Four months later, they run into each other on campus. It’s for some mandatory faculty function, black tie or some shit, but, even though he’s only part-time, he’s required to attend. What Newt is wearing is  _technically_ a black tie, so Pentecost needs to stop pestering him about it _._

Newt spots him almost immediately; with his elegant cane and old-style clothes that give off a stuffy-18th-century-professor vibe, Hermann is hard to miss. Newt makes a beeline for where he’s standing awkwardly in the corner. “Hermann!” he exclaims, “dude, I didn’t know you taught!”

Hermann sniffs. “I do. Theoretical physics, though only part-time.”

“So, did Pentecost force you to come as well?” Newt questions, “cause he forced me to.” Assbutt.

“Ah, no,” Hermann says, “I always attend.”

“I don’t,” Newt shrugs, “must be why I’ve never seen you on campus.”

Hermann mutters, “Good. I’m not sure I could stomach seeing more of you than necessary.”

“Hey!” Newt exclaims, “that was uncalled for!”

“You,” Hermann hisses, “are the most aggravating person I’ve had the displeasure to meet. You constantly ask me for recommendations, and then ignore my suggestions––why not just not ask? Or do you find some perverse joy in watching me suffer through listening to your tasteless combinations?”

Newt clasps a hand to his heart. “I would never!”

Hermann rolls his eyes. “Yes, you would.”

Newt sighs. “Alright, fine, maybe I would. But it’s only because no one else indulges in my random tangents––I mean, you act like you hate me, but the other day, we got into a heated debate about the semantics of the X-Men.”

“It makes no sense,” Hermann insists. “Regardless, you could go bother literally anyone else with your inane chatter.”

“What, and deprive you of my wonderful presence?” Newt teases, “c’mon, we both know you enjoy it.”

Hermann sighs, leans against the wall. “Well, I will admit, our arguments are the most stimulating part of my otherwise monotonous shift.”

“Hah!” Newt crows, “I knew it!”

* * *

They wind up meeting up once a month or so. Hermann is hilarious once Newt manages to get him to relax, his humor dry and deadpan. He’s still prickly and awkward, but it’s endearing.

Ah, shit. It’s  _endearing_. Newt freezes, the pizza halfway to his mouth. By his side, Hermann throws his head back, laughing at something in the movie they’re watching. Newt’s eyes flit to the curl of his lips, and he thinks,  _fuck._

In his defence, it’s wholly accidental––all of it. He didn’t  _mean_ to make up a boyfriend for his dad, and he didn’t intend to try and get to know Hermann better, and he most  _certainly_ didn’t mean to wind up with a  _crush_ on him.

“Is there something on my face?” Hermann asks, breaking him out of his state of panic. 

“No, nope, nada, you’re great!” Newt lets out a nervous laugh. “Nope, you’re––you’re fine.” Hermann shoots him a strange look but drops it, and Newt tries to immerse himself in the movie again.

 _The problem_ , he thinks, after Hermann leaves,  _is that, once the proverbial Pandora’s Box is opened, there’s no turning back._

And there isn’t. He catches himself sending embarrassingly sappy looks at the other, practically swooning when he  ~~breaks into~~  picks Newt’s lock to bring him soup when he’s sick and dotes on him like a mother hen.

“Really, you don’t have to do this, Herms,” he protests, voice scratchy, and lets out a hacking cough. Hermann levels him with a disbelieving look and pours a measure of cough medicine and hands him a cup of water.

Newt throws it back, grimacing, and tries to drown the taste with the water. “I want ice cream,” he mutters.

“You’re  _sick_ ,” Hermann points out. 

“Killjoy.” His eyes are slipping shut, though, dragged down by exhaustion. 

Just before he slips into sleep, there’s a warmth on his cheek, and he hears Hermann murmur, “Sleep well…Newt.”

* * *

He wakes, the duvet tucked neatly up to his chin, the weak sunlight barely filtering through the blinds. There’s a warmth against his shoulder, and he peers, practically cross-eyed, to find Hermann’s head pillowed on his shoulder, the rest of his body sprawled awkwardly on a chair.

“Hermann,” he whispers, “Hermann, dude, wake up.”

When that doesn’t work, he shifts, trying to dislodge the other, but Hermann lets out a whine. “Hermann,” he tries again, louder. “C’mon, man, that  _cannot_ be comfortable.”

Finally, Hermann stirs, blinking to wakefulness. For a second, he looks confused, before he pales, shooting upright. “I—I’m so sorry—” he stammers, “I didn’t mean—if I overstepped—”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Newt cuts him off. “I just didn’t think you looked very comfortable there.”

“Oh,” Hermann says, flushing. “Er.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better—” Newt’s interrupted by another bout of coughing. “Damnit, that  _hurts_ ,” he complains. “But as I was saying: I wouldn’t be opposed if you were to…overstep. If you get what I mean.”

Hermann stares at him, eyes comically wide, and squeaks, “What?”

“Look, tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” Newt says, propping himself up against the headboard. “But I’m interested in you, and you’re interested in me, so…”

Hermann makes a strangled sound. “Y—yes. I am,” he croaks.

“Okay,” Newt grins. “Good. Cuz I have the biggest crush on you, and as soon as I get over this, I want to date you. Like, full on, sappy and romantic wooing shit.”

Hermann blushes, glancing at the floor. “Well, then,” he says, “you’d better take your cough medicine.”

“Oh god, no,” Newt whines. “It tastes awful!”

Hermann’s eyes flick up, a devious glint in them. “What if I promised you a kiss?” he proposes.

“Okay, hand over the medicine,” Newt grumbles, and measures out another dose, swallowing it with a grimace. “Kiss?”

Hermann leans in, and Newt’s eyes flutter closed, expectant. Except, instead of a kiss on the lips, Hermann presses his lips to Newt’s forehead. “Hey!” Newt exclaims, glaring.

Hermann shrugs. “You’re sick, Newton.”

Newt huffs, but stops glowering, conceding to the point. Hermann pats his arm consolingly and twines their fingers together.


End file.
